A Touch of Nostalgia

Feb 20, 2006
About twenty miles south east of Laughlin, Nevada, in the crook of a mountain pass, lies Oatman, Arizona where the glitz of Nevada seems hundreds of miles and years away. A gold mining colony from a hundred years ago, Oatman doesn’t seem to have progressed. The miners used burros to haul their gear and the progeny of those original donkeys still live in the hills surrounding Oatman, coming down every day into the town. They are given free rein and cars driving through the main street are expected to give way to the burros.

When we arrived in Oatman, we parked behind some rickety old clapboard buildings and strolled back in a bit having noticed a couple of ancient rusting fire engines beside a weathered fire bell. That was a mistake; some sort of ‘pit bull-like’ dog charged down at us as fast as a gazelle, growling and snapping frenziedly. (To B&B who own and love a part pit bull - please don’t accuse me of breedism). We made a hasty retreat while Caesar wanted to linger and socialize. Luckily, the monster dog stopped – I guess we’d invaded his territory.

So we stuck to the main street busy with tourists on this Presidents’ Day holiday. The road was lined with souvenir shops, cafes and saloons in the original buildings – very quaint, very touristy. The burros strolled everywhere looking for handouts. Someone was selling carrots and everyone was feeding them. “Do not feed the baby burros,” the signs said, “they only need their mother’s milk and might choke”. I do hope it was paid attention to.

The burros were varied in colour, some white, some grey, some brown, some dappled and the babies (colts?) with spiky hair up their necks to the top of their heads would nuzzle their noses into my leg not wanting to be ignored. They loved to be petted and tickled and clouds of dust would erupt if you gave a good pat on the back.

As we approached a small ‘herd’ (?), Caesar was enthralled and dragged at his leash hard to get closer. One burro seemed just as interested in Caesar and the little white dog and the dusty brown burro snuffled noses together, Caesar’s tail wagging frantically. This went on for quite a while – a love story in the making.

I wandered into a shop that sold rocks among its unruly display of Oatman t-shirts, gaudy suspenders, and wind chimes made from beer cans. I picked up a few random rocks from a box on the floor but they were not priced. An elderly gentleman was alone at the desk. He was wearing his pants held high by a pair of those giant suspenders and his glasses were perched at the end of his bulbous nose.
“How much?” I asked
“Dunno” he answered
“Who does know?” I fired back
“She ain’t here” he said mildly
“When’ll she be back?”
“Wednesday”
“That’s two days from now”
“Yup”
“How do I know how much then” I pursued
“Oh heck!” he twinkled at me “three for a dollar”
I had six pieces that I figured would be about a dollar or more each.
“That’s a deal” I replied – kindly now.
“That’ll teach her to put prices on in future” he said as he entered the prices into an old cash register with a handle at the side that he’d crank after each item.
“That’ll be $2.14” he said
I handed him a $5 bill, a dime and a nickel.
“Damn thing won’t open” he said exasperatedly, as he banged on the side of the register.
“Did you push the total key?” I offered. I could see the machine quite clearly as I was at the side counter.
“Damnation” he spit “everything’s going wrong today” but he hit ‘Total’ and out popped the drawer.
He started counting out change and pulled some bills and handed me a total of $6.75 – now terribly flustered and confused. I gave it back and patiently explained that he just owed me three $1 bills and one penny and I had to point to the slot in the drawer where the $1 bills lay.


As we drove out of town, a sign proclaimed “Old Highway – Route 66” and we decided to follow it. It’s obviously not well used as the plants and mosses grew across the shoulder edging on to the road. It was very picturesque curling through the mountains and weaving through the foothills and roller-coastering through the plains. I flashed back mentally to my teenage years (this is happening more and more often – is it a sign of old age?) when I had a crush on the blonde Martin Milner and the dark George Maharis, the stars of the TV series ‘Route 66’. Of course, they didn’t travel this remote 23-mile stretch from Oatman to Needles but it still made me reminisce.

Feb 22 –24, 2006
Back to Quartzsite and what a change. The rock and gem shows over, the big RV show finished, the streets were empty, shops in tents closed down for the season and our desert camping spot wasn’t deserted but mighty quiet. We wanted to see ‘the Satellite Guys’ about installing a TV dish on Maggie’s roof as we’d heard that the prices here were the best. However we found that they only supply ‘high-end’ equipment – not in our price bracket. I guess we’ll go with Camping World.

The temperature (one month later) is much warmer – middle 70’s I’d guess but it still got really cold overnight – I’m still wearing my red flannel pyjamas with the little white polar bears frolicking across.

We did a three day ‘veg-out’ again – we need one every so often. Relaxing in the sun, reading, writing, snoozing, cocktails, marvelling at the bright warm sun and blue sky and that this is our 47th day without rain. I don’t think I ever want to be in Vancouver in January and February again – not if I can help it anyway. The large desert hummingbirds hover near, the absence of insects puzzles us (must be the cold nights) and as the sun sinks in the sky, two ultra lights put-putt by just over our heads. They are like large U-shaped parachutes in yellow and orange, the lines holding the pilots as if in easy chairs. I would love to try one - what a thrill to soar over the desert and spy on all below. They fly very slowly and at such a low altitude – not at all frightening. I wonder why they fly at sunset each day.